


Salvation

by TK_DuVeraun



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 17:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8254507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_DuVeraun/pseuds/TK_DuVeraun
Summary: For the kinkmeme. Prompt: Inspired by this lovely fanart. Sebastian is a mage. His family knew, but they didn't want the shame of having a mage son, so they concealed his magic and kept him out of a circle. After a few near-reveals during his wild days, they gave him an ultimatum: either he joins the Chantry and keeps quiet, or they're dumping him into a circle and hinting to the templars that they wouldn't mind very much if he was made tranquil or mysteriously disappeared. Being a mage, Sebastian would probably be much more aware (and scared) of what really happens in circles, so the obvious choice was to join the Chantry and keep hiding his magic. But then he meets Hawke, and nothing ever goes right when Hawke is involved....+ a different personal quest for Seb probably? Something to do with his secret?++++++++++ Seb/Anders





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Read it there](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15999.html?thread=63763071#t63763071).

A touch, a twinge, a shift in the still air of the Chantry: Sebastian lifted his head from the thick text and slipped in the silk ribbon to hold his place as he shut it with a soft thwump of old paper. His robes made no sound as he stood from the small desk and strode out of the small office hidden on the far side of Grand Cleric Elthina’s office suite.

As he left the hallway, his soft boots making no sound on the heavy rug, the heavy wood of the double doors leading out into Hightown opened. He clasped his hands behind his back and watched silently as a group of six Templars stomped and clanked their way inside, a single, robed Tranquil walking in the center of them.

He couldn’t see the Brand from so far away, but the unnaturally straight posture, the blank obliviousness to the presence of the Templars without easy confidence, the gaze that never wavered all spoke loud enough. Sebastian clenched his left hand and felt the muscles flex against the heavy bracer he wore on his forearm underneath his robes.

The burnished silverite templar armor continued to ring and clank with every step the intruders made. Holding back a grimace, Sebastian stepped lightly across the sanctuary, his gait an easy, even eight steps to five yards that he used to regulate his breathing and keep his emotions tightly leashed as he made his way behind the Templars. They escorted the Tranquil into one of the side alcoves - one set aside for more intimate, private prayers.

Heavy gauntlets shoved the Tranquil this way and that until the Templars were satisfied. Their leader, a unfamiliar blond man without his helmet, turned to scan the area and froze when he saw Sebastian standing just a few feet away, expression neutrally pleasant.

Sebastian gave the knight a shallow bow. “I was unaware the Grand Cleric had requested the services of another Tranquil. You do your position honor, escorting him so late in the evening. You have my thanks.”

The blond man sneered, anger making his lip curl. The scent of lyrium was heavy in the air - these were true Templars, not mercenaries wearing stolen armor. His heavy pauldrons bunched up around his neck as he stared Sebastian down.

In his younger years, Sebastian would have rolled his eyes at the posturing, but here and now he kept his face still. He used politeness to mask his disgust; this wasn’t the first time he’d caught enterprising Templars illicitly selling the ‘services’ of a Tranquil, but it was the first time they’d come with such force.

“Best you return to your cell, _Brother_. This is no business of yours.” The Templar scoffed and jerked his head to the side, vaguely in the direction of the sleeping quarters.

A smile crept across Sebastian’s face. He stepped forward, pretending to be oblivious to the way the Templars tensed and closed ranks around him. He put a hand on the Tranquil’s shoulder, but the man didn’t even turn his head. “I am humbled by your offer to attend to my duties, but I must insist. I will see to having this man bedded down and prepared to begin his duties in the morning, Ser…?”

The Templar snarled rather than give his name, but it was no matter. Elthina ostensibly held position over the Knight-Commander and could ferret out the Templar’s name if she felt it necessary.

Sebastian leaned in to the Tranquil. “And your name, serah?”

He fought hard against the instinctive flinch when the response was a rasping monotone. “I am Karl Thekla.”

“Well met, Karl. I am Brother Sebastian. If you come with me, I will escort you to your quarters while here in the Chantry.” He held the Tranquil’s elbow firmly and gently pulled him away from the Templars, who shifted in their heavy armor, the plates grinding together with their agitation. When he was three yards from them, Sebastian paused and turned back to them. “Thank you again, Sers, for delivering him at such a late hour. Maker watch over you.”

His skin itched from their eyes on him, but Sebastian kept a tight lid on his anxiety as he lead Karl through the echoing chamber. When they turned toward the dormitories, the loud clank-clunk of retreating Templars sounded.

The tension under his skin settled by inches as he settled Karl into one of the few cells set aside for men. He didn’t make conversation; the Tranquil could gain nothing from it and any response he received would just feed into the sharp fear that forever clawed at his heart. Just before leaving the Tranquil behind, he lit a single, thick, red candle with a touch of his index finger.

He grinned at the feeling of magic flowing just under his skin, even as the magic suppressing bracer on his left arm drained him of what little mana it had allowed to slip through before he exercised his hidden talent. His boots were a whisper on the Chantry’s thick rugs as he returned to the alcove the Templar had chosen for their ‘business.’

Sebastian didn’t have long to wait and when he saw the ‘clients,’ disgust welled up in his throat two-fold. First, that apostates would take advantage of their own kind and second that the blighted, idiotic, _stupid_ blond apostate would so openly wear a staff and a coat that could easily be mistaken as robes.

With a casual motion, he slipped his right hand into his left sleeve and removed the magic suppressor. The rush of mana was heady, but he looked through it to the approaching apostate and his companions. A woman with short, dark hair and delicate features and a long bow over her shoulder. A second with similar features, but long, black hair and an undisguised staff on her back. At the back, a beardless dwarf with an intricate crossbow.

The leader, the blond apostate with the ratty feathered coat, paced the few steps from one side of the alcove to the other, arms twitching with his agitation. Sebastian let the righteous satisfaction curl in his gut at the sight. The man deserved no less for attempting to engage in such a heinous deal.

“He’s not here! He should be here! What if the Templars got him?” The apostate was shouting.

Sebastian stepped forward, revealing himself with a curious expression plastered across his noble features. “Can I help you, serah? The hour is late; I regret to inform you that the Chantry doesn’t normally provide services at this hour.”

The apostate lunged at him, grabbing the front of his robes in an iron grip. “What did you do with him? Where’s Karl?”

The dwarf pushed forward and pulled the apostate back. “Calm down, Blondie. You’re not going to help your friend assaulting this poor Brother.”

Sebastian welcomed the interference as his mind raced, churning this new information over, checking the plausible veracity. It certainly made more sense that this apostate was lured to see the Tranquil, but why then would the Templars not simply have informed Sebastian of the plot? It was the Chantry’s duty to oversee the capture of apostates and maleficar, even if it wasn’t a duty he performed.

The short haired woman stepped forward. “Please excuse Anders, Brother. We were expecting to meet a friend of his.” She glanced over her shoulder at the other woman (a relation, perhaps?). “Karl, wasn’t it Beth?”

“I believe so.”

She turned back to Sebastian. “Right, his friend Karl was supposed to meet us here. We have reason to believe he’s in some kind of danger. You haven’t… Seen him, have you?”

Only years of meditation and practice kept Sebastian’s eyes from widening. _These people are part of the Mage Underground, aren’t they? Poorly planned, seeing as they nearly walked into a Templar ambush_. He examined them again.

“He’s one of _them_ ,” Anders snarled. “The last thing he would do is help us.”

Sebastian weighed his options and then said, slowly, “I may have information regarding this matter, but I would like to know why the Templars would stage an ambush for an apostate, but act guilty when confronted by a member of the Chantry.”

Anders cursed loudly and made another lunge for Sebastian, who stood still as the dwarf held him back. The dwarf answered the question, though he grunted from the effort of holding the mage. “Blondie here is a Grey Warden, so the Templars don’t actually have the authority to bring him in.”

“A Grey Warden? I’m honored. I’m Lay Brother Sebastian, by the by. One Karl Thekla was brought here by Templars an hour ago, give or take. I settled him into one of the dormitories. I assumed… Well, it would not have been the first time a Templar tried to sell a Tranquil.”

Anders froze at the word. “Tranquil?” He crumpled, slipping through the dwarf’s arms and collapsing to the floor with a cry. “Not Karl… No…”

The dwarf sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought this was too easy.”

Sebastian held his hands together. "To you, My second-born, I grant this gift: in your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame all-consuming, and never satisfied. From the Fade I crafted you, and to the Fade you shall return each night in dreams that you may always remember Me." After a pause, he reached toward and touched Anders’ shoulder. “Come. I will take you to him. He is now under the protection of the Grand Cleric. He will be safe here; I swear it.”

“You…” The word burned with hate, curled with acid from the depths of a sundered heart.

Sebastian held out his hand, a curl of white mage light glittering in his palm. “Come.”

 

\---

 

Wind whipped at Sebastian’s armor, the long fox fur on his shoulders tickling the exposed part of his neck. The light chainmail he wore wouldn’t do much against a direct assault, but he was light enough on his feet that it didn’t bother him. A quiver hung off his belt, the arrows delicate and carved with sharp runes. They looked as if they’d snap in twain just from touching the taut string of the longbow slung over his shoulder, but magic was a funny thing.

Energy lazily swam from the crystal set in his bow’s grip and up and down the wooden length. It hummed with a faint touch of magic, but no more than one would expect from an enchanted bow. As he looked over the empty coastline, Sebastian wondered, not for the first time, why other mages insisted on using staves to channel their magic when so many more discreet weapons would do.

His bare fingers ran over his arrows’ fletching as he watched the cave mouth, looking for a sign of… something. Through his callouses, he still felt the different texture of the feathers. Grouse would mean an arrow that exploded in a blast of fire. Falcon would send a jolt of electricity through the target. Raven would erupt in a cloud of thick black smoke on contact. And they always made contact - he was talented enough at force magics to guide his arrows.

Sebastian didn’t want to be there. He held no love for the members of the Starkhaven Circle. The dubious privilege of being born to the Prince of Starkhaven meant he’d never seen the inside of a Circle, but there he was, regardless. He’d received a note, delivered by a raven made of twisting, dark magic. Blackmail. The escaped Starkhaven mages knew what he was, somehow, and would reveal everything if he didn’t help them remain free.

A Templar approached the cave and Sebastian ground his teeth. He climbed up on the rocky slope, trying to approach the hiding place from another route. He would slip inside when the Templar had his back to the entrance… If everything went right. He didn’t want to kill a member of the Order, but from the way the man took in his surroundings and turned his head at the slightest sound, it seemed inevitable.

Until Marian Hawke appeared. Her armor was stained with old blood and she was again accompanied by her sister, the bearded dwarf and Anders. The blond apostate saw him and met his eyes as Marian spoke with the Templar. Sebastian put a single finger over his lips and pointed to the inside of the cave. At Anders’ faint nod, he leapt down from his rocky perch and landed on the sandy ground, his soft boots making only the slightest sound on contact.

He slipped inside and waited alone for only a few moments before Hawke and her companions joined him.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Choir Boy,” the dwarf said with cheer that didn’t meet his exacting gaze.

“It seems we have a mutual interest in this cave, Master Dwarf,” Sebastian replied in a matching tone. “I am from Starkhaven, after all.”

The dwarf thrust out his hand. “Varric Tethras, from the Merchant’s Guild. Tell me, Brother Sebastian, your surname wouldn’t happen to be _Vael_ , would I?”

“It would,” he replied easily. He very carefully let his accent thicken. “It just so happens that some of the, shall we say, inhabitants, of this cave are aware of my rather particular circumstances.”

“Vael? Is that important?” Marian asked, looking at her sister to see if Bethany knew.

“The Vaels have ruled Starkhaven for generations. Some short months ago, a mercenary company even attempted to assassinate them. How fortuitous that some apostate had seen fit to ward the castle.”

“Some apostate,” Anders said, chuckling.

“So they’re blackmailing you,” Marian said. Her expression was pleasant, even if her words were to the point.

“So it would seem.”

Marian scrubbed the back of her head. “What do they want?”

Sebastian raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly first at Bethany and then Anders. “What we all want: freedom.”

Hawke looked at him for a moment and then nodded. “Come on, then. We could use another… _archer_.” She rolled her eyes and laughed before leading the party deeper into the cave.

Once they passed the first bend, a shade rose up from the ground. The dirt around it churned and cracked as a half-dozen skeletal corpses followed suit. Sebastian grimaced as he drew his ‘bow.’ He spoke while aiming a frost arrow, “It seems they’ve turned to blood magic.”

“Not everyone has Mommy and Daddy keep them out of the Circle,” Anders replied, spinning his staff as a cascade of small fireballs flew towards the shambling corpses.

“Becoming a maleficar is not the answer.” Sebastian’s voice was calm and even - completely unphased by the grotesque horror staggering towards him. “It is more difficult for Grand Cleric Elthina to push for reform in the Circle when Meredith can point to such things as examples of the danger of free mages.”

“A Grand Cleric pushing for leniency? That’ll be the day.”

Hawke shot an arrow through the skull of the last skeleton and then lowered her bow. “Anders, this isn’t productive.”

Bethany nodded her agreement. “The Chantry isn’t the enemy. And Grand Cleric Elthina leads such lovely services.”

Sebastian smiled. “I will pass your compliment on to her.”

Anders gave a disgruntled huff, but otherwise remained silent as they tromped deeper into the cave, venting his frustration by making the skeletons that rose explode in a shower of musty bone fragments. Eventually, they reached a large cavern with an assortment of mages hunched around a fire.

A woman with a tattooed face stood at their approach. “The Vael brat. You got our message. Good.”

“Ah, of course it would be you,” Sebastian said with the slightest nod of his head. “I don’t suppose there’s a secondary entrance to this cave? One of Meredith’s Templars has already tracked you here.”

A mage with white-blond hair and a full beard stood up at that and snarled. “You brought him here! I knew contacting you was a mistake! You and your family imprisoned us in the first place! You just came to sell us out to the Templars!”

Anders clicked his tongue and drew his staff. “And people say I’m paranoid.”

“Well, Blondie, you are, but this guy’s clearly too far gone to reason with,” Varric replied, their conversation happening over the mage’s continued rambling.

“Even as you oppose us, the dead themselves-” The mage’s rant was cut off as one of Sebastian’s arrows found its mark in his heart and crackled as it expelled a bolt of magical electricity.

“If we might continue with the blackmail,” he said mildly.

A young, shivering mage stepped forward. “Please, serah, I _want_ to go back to the Circle. Blood magic is…” His shuddering increased and he scrambled away from the dead mage.

Hawke frowned. “If that’s what you want… Head to the entrance and surrender yourself to Ser Thrask. He’ll see that you’re not harmed.”

“The Circle is a prison and-”

“Not now, Anders,” Hawke interrupted.

Sebastian ran a hand over his hair. “Anyone else wish to return to the Circle? No? Then gather your things and follow behind, but not too closely. We’ll send Ser Thrask off to the Gallows and you can leave.”

Anders continued to complain as they made their way back to the entrance. “How could you let him return to the Circle?”

Sebastian rubbed his temples. “It is not my place to make decisions for another. He made the choice.”

“He was barely more than a boy! He didn’t know any better!”

“And we can assume he doesn’t know how to live on the run. The life of an apostate is a dangerous one, as you know better than I.”

“Better to live free and in danger than in a gilded cage and that’s assuming the Templars don’t torture him, which is farfetched enough on its own.”

“He was free to choose and he chose the Circle. Perhaps it was a mistake, but I would not take that choice from him.” Sebastian signalled for the group to pause as they neared the entrance. He saw a second Templar run forward to meet Ser Thrask and there was movement in the distance, signalling more. “Just stay here and let me do the talking.”

Sebastian pasted an expression of polite calm on his face and stepped out of the cave, taking care to ensure his steps were loud. When the Templars heard him, they paused and turned to face him. He gave a short bow. “Sers, thank you for coming so quickly.”

“Who are you?” The second Templar said, voice sharp.

“Please pardon my armor. The coast is not the safest of places. I am Brother Sebastian. The Grand Cleric sent me here to perform the last rites for the maleficar. As I’m sure you know, it’s not safe to bring the bodies to the city proper. The demons may use the corpses to… Well, you would know better than I.”

“That’s it, then? They’re all dead, except for this boy?”

The boy nodded furiously in agreement and Ser Thrask made a noise of agreement, even though confusion obviously painted his features. Thankfully, the second Templar didn’t seem to notice. Sebastian continued, gesturing to where Hawke and the others were visible behind him. “The Chantry hired these fine mercenaries to set and light the pyres within, so that you might focus on any who left this group, Ser..?”

“Karras. And good.” Karras straightened and pressed out his chest at Sebastian, a weak power play at best. “Good,” he repeated. “Thank you for your services Brother. Ser Thrask will escort you and this _mage_ while my men and I continue to search the coast.”

 

\---

 

Varric: So, Choir Boy, you’re a prince.  
Sebastian: No, that’s my father. Prince is the ruling title of Starkhaven.  
Varric: Ah, makes sense.  
Hawke: No it doesn’t. Why not just call him the king if he’s the ruler.  
Varric: Proper titles are important, Hawke.  
Sebastian: So I’ve always been told.

 

Varric: Does anything bother you?  
Sebastian: Excuse me?  
Varric: Aside from getting annoyed at maleficar for ruining it for everyone else, I haven’t see you upset about anything.  
Sebastian: Ah. Orlesians.  
Varric: Orlesians? But you’re not Ferelden.  
Sebastian: Starkhaven is on the Minater, which Orlesians seem to take as an invitation to hawk their chintzy wears and ugly shoes. They even tried to convince my mother to wear one of those horrid masks.

 

Sebastian: I can’t imagine a worse way to become the head of your house.  
Sebastian: I was always envious of my brothers, but I would never want anything to happen to them.  
Varric: You think I _wanted_ to be in charge? You need to get your head checked.

 

Anders: So you were invested as a Brother in the Chantry?  
Sebastian: I am just a Lay Brother. I never took any vows.  
Anders: Because you’re a mage?  
Sebastians: Because I’m not celibate.  
Isabela: *wolf whistle*  
Varric: Is that so?

 

Anders: Why the Chantry, though? I can hardly think of a _worse_ place for an apostate to hide.  
Sebastian: My parents didn’t keep me from the Circle out of love. They just didn’t want the _shame_ of having a mage for a child. When I became a wild youth I was given the choice of joining the Chantry or ‘disappearing’ on a hunt.  
Anders: But you believe in it. You _like_ it.  
Sebastian: Wine gives me a hangover, but I still like that.

 

Sebastian: You clean up well.  
Anders: Is this going to be another lecture about how I need to stop being the obvious apostate of the sewers?  
Sebastian: It _was_ going to be an invitation.  
Isabela: You could always invite me.  
Merrill: Ooh, is there a party?

 

Fenris: Mage.  
Anders: What now?  
Sebastian: No, he calls you Abomination. _I’m_ Mage.  
Sebastian: What is it you need, Fenris?  
Fenris: You parade around as a Brother. Why hide what you are? The others do not.  
Sebastian: For the same reason you don’t introduce yourself as a slave. It is something I did not choose that others would leash me for.

 

\---

 

Sebastian pinned Anders against the thin, wooden wall of one of the Hanged Man’s rooms. One hand pulled the healer’s blond head enough to tilt his head back and the other expertly worked the buckles on the front of his coat. Sebastian’s mouth worked a searing line down his throat while his pressed the other mage firmly against the wall.

“You’re a royal pain the ass, you know?” Anders asked as his hands scrabbled ineffectually at the ‘archer’s’ armor.

“Not yet,” Sebastian replied as he opened the final buckle and shoved the coat roughly off Anders’ shoulders.

“Acting all superior and holier than thou. Prancing around the Chan-” Anders gasped as Sebastian bit his neck.

“If you insist on running your mouth, I have better uses for it.”

 

\---

 

“So this Desire demon just up and told you it was here?” Anders asked, looking at Sebastian askance as they walked with Hawke through the extensive cellar network connected to the Amell estate.

Sebastian ducked a low beam and fingered his enchanted totally-arrows-no-really as he considered his answer. “It wasn’t as simple as that, but essentially.”

“Well, what’s the story then, Choir Boy?” Varric asked.

“Johane Harimann isn’t a mage, which limits the demon’s power this side of the Veil considerable. Among other things, it can’t leave the ruins.” Just then, Sebastian felt a shift in the Veil, as if his words had summoned it. Magic crashed over them in an ethereal wave and a mass of shades appeared. Sebastian drew his bow in a smooth motion and fired his arrows at their attackers.

“This happens every time,” Hawke said, loosing her real arrows. “We should really know better than to chat while we’re trying to get somewhere.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Chuckles? A story like yours needs proper snappy dialogue.”

Sebastian straightened when the last shade dissolved into a cloud of ashy magic. “As I was saying, the demon is limited. It was only able to find _me_ through Johane’s apparent envy towards my family.”

“And you decided to give it what it wanted and bring it a vessel it _can_ move with?” Anders raised both eyebrows at his sometimes lover.

“I had rather enough of Justice complaining to me when we helped Feynriel. What was the word it used? Obsession?” Sebastian shot back.

“Alright you two, save it for the honeymoon.” Hawke pushed herself between them and made her way forward, checking her hastily scrawl map as they came to a t-intersection in the cellar. “When we’re done here, I’m filing a complaint with the Viscount. The Harimanns clearly built their basement into part of my cellar.”

“Your cellar covers half of the undercity, Hawke.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Aveline sighed heavily and rolled her eyes at the others. “I’m just glad we’re not trespassing.”

Sebastian smirked at her. “Surely stopping a demon is reason enough for the Guard to be present.”

“If demons are involved, I have to call in the Templars.”

“Ah. Forget I said anything.”

Eventually the cellar opened up into an old Tevinter ruin, long forgotten underneath the city. Sebastian held his bow loosely in his left hand as he lead the way forward. A matronly woman stood before a Desire demon that looked to be spectrally leashed to a wicked, blood-stained altar. The woman snapped around at their approach.

“Sebastian! What are you doing here?” Anger painted the woman’s features, deepening the lines already on her face.

“Please excuse me, Lady Harimann. I am not here for you.” Sebastian said, his accent thick, though his tone sounded bored.

Johane looked over her shoulder at the demon before turning back to Sebastian and baring her teeth. “I knew we shouldn’t have kept your secret! You Vaels have too much already. I won’t let you take this from me, too!” She lifted her arms and shades appeared as long as two minor rage demons.

Varric lifted Bianca and loosed several bolts. “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way, right Blondie?”

“Now, now, Varric,” Anders replied in between twirls of his staff. “Be nice. All she knows is the misinformation the Chantry chooses to spread.”

With only minor difficulties, they beat back the demons and after only a few minutes, Sebastian was standing in front of the Desire demon with Lady Harimann slumped to her knees next to him. The demon ran its hands down its voluptuous body, using its dark power to make itself even more appealing. “I can make you the same deal, Young Vael. You desire the same things as her, but you have the power to actually make use of my gift.”  
  
Sebastian made a show of considering the offer before hitting the demon square in the chest with the focusing crystal set in the grip of his bow. As it dissolved back into Fade energy, he said, “Sorry, there’s already one abomination in my relationship. Two would just be excessive.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, whatever, we all love party banter.
> 
>  
> 
> [The only other mage!Sebastian I've seen.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1026299)


End file.
